He woke up early. With half-opened eyes he looked under the bed for his new shoes, two black round-pointed loafers with shoelaces. The latter were resting quietly in the front, a sign that no one had touched them. The marks that he had scribbled on the floor, right where he placed them, as a proof of intrusion in case someone maliciously handled them, divulged no incidents.
His fear and anxiety were in vain, because another pair, exactly the same, on the opposite side, slightly larger, belonged to his brother, Paschalis.
Both were Easter presents to the two of them by grandma Tota. Their godmothers, willingly or not, were nowhere near. Today, even on a Holy Thursday, they could still receive Communion, without implying that they would abandon the fast unlawfully before the Resurrection.
The red Easter eggs were about to be done, as the smell of vinegar accompanied by a trace of odor of eggs appeared quite pervasive. The noise of the cooking pots confirmed that too.
After his toilet ritual and the washing of hands and face, he entered the kitchen.
Red eggs were scattered on the table on a platter, polished with oil, but were still inside nylon socks, before their white clover was uncovered, the chrysanthemum, the rose leaves, with more of them lying broken and mournful on a tin plate.
Grandma addressed rather nitpicking comments to the mother, the master of egg coloring, who remained silent. Her plump hands were red as the local gipsy women’s, very much like her own apron, but her face was like a glowing moon and smiling. Creativeness evaded the sorrow that was inferred by the holy week.
He felt exactly the same during that week. While he got teary when he saw the thorny crown on Jesus’s beautiful face, there was still something else that gave him incredible joy.
It was the Eve of Lazarus and he sprung all the way home from school.
Not to mention Virgin Mary’s image.
- How did she bear so much pain?
Concerning Jesus, grandma Tota had already answered that; she had cleared it up very early on.
- But he’s just God Himself, my child; He can endure everything on behalf of all of us, who are so useless. So, mind that you don’t disappoint Him and then He feels bitter about it.
Her statement became the law.
Throughout the Easter week he remained blameless as a lamb, before and after the Communion.
He didn’t even taste the Easter bread, regardless how its scent penetrated his nose during the entire Holy Saturday.
According to Mrs. Tota, He, who sees everything, was both omnipresent and saw everything, Ghika, Paschalis, her own, the entire village of Tavri, and naturally the entire universe.
- Can He see Dad too? In his travels?
- Not only He looks after him, but He also protects him from the barbarians, the unbaptized, the waters and the reefs, and all the enemies, in general.
You must not drink, not even water, do you listen to me? Communion won’t count otherwise. How else could you bear the plagues committed upon you by the "Infidels"?
The fire produced loud sounds of burning wood inside the stove, and chickpeas were already jumping in the pot.
Paschalis was still under the sheets, thereby triggering his mother’s tender little voice, one that revived the dead. A beeping "Paschaliiiii" as if she avenged her grudge against her mother-in-law, who preached from morning till night, and didn’t like anything the did, rejected, commented upon, and blamed Pagona, her first daughter-in-law, Dorothea, the second, and Triada, the third and the undersigned, followed by the whole neighborhood, the village, and the entire universe except the works of her own, her own mommy and occasionally her brothers.
The rows among those women, combined with the absence of his father, made him silent and muted, isolated and dreamy. His new teacher said that to his mother.
He was quite delighted about those news, and he therefore conjugated the adjective during a whole day "the dreamer, of the dreamer, to the dreamer" in case he needed to do the same in class too, and if he’d get it wrong, the teacher in her peanut color dress would be disappointed, and he’d have to either abandon the ‘dreamer’ nickname or change it to ‘dumbass’ as some distant cousin once called him, when his aunts were praising his manners and cleanliness.
He wasn’t like other children.
That's why all his younger cousins wanted his clothes and shoes, when they didn’t fit anymore, not those of his brother Paschalis.
- Gee, these look like they’ve never been used before, they commented when they saw them.
- A golden-handed housewife, his mother is for sure.
Well yes, if he wasn’t quite careful himself, no golden-handed were able to produce such miracles.
However, this morning he took care of his appearance exceptionally well. He put on his shorts, Tota’s handicraft from dad’s own clothes and worn out, a white shirt and brand new white ankle socks. He wetted his hands with Menounos cologne, dad's Christmas present; he rubbed them over his freshly shave-trimmed haircut from the day before, but his hands seemed to be always hindered by his protruding ears. This slightly bothered him, but it didn’t matter much, anyway.
- In our family men have always had big ears', said Mrs Tota and the matter was closed.
As he was not a wicked boy, he had no scars on his head. Paschalis’ head, was furrowed by small, large, deep scars from stone throwing and other sharp objects, obviously to his great regret, as were his knees too. Despite the rubbing, his knees remained dirty and dark, unlike his own that looked clean like a lassie’s. Same thing even happened during yesterday’s bath of them both in view of today’s communion.
Last, he put on his shoes and engaged in the shoelace binding very attentively. He straightened them up. He took a couple of steps on the floor to make sure they don’t get loose.
Also, the setting required a good deed for the day; he therefore had to look after Paschalis’ too, whose hands were too clumsy per universal acknowledgment. He resembled those from the other side of the family, according to grandma Tota that is, who were incompetent and unskilled.
He was about to protest, to frown, but he swallowed it, not to be seen by Him who watches upon everything, and therefore commit a sin.
Per the usual custom, Paschalis put some chickpeas on the stove, as he was quite indifferent about smearing his hands, having black nails and the like.
Upon departing he grabbed them into his pocket.
They kissed grandma’s hand, she hugged them, Triada sighed thinking about her master and their father, Mrs. Tota did the sign of the cross about her absent son, they all wished him well and came out to the street.
Paschalis, unwittingly or intentionally, as a usual troublemaker perhaps, he’d never confessed the reason, gave him half a chickpea, one that he bit first in half and then invoked Ghika’s opinion about its taste. The latter unconsciously put it in his mouth, it felt like their own patented chickpea taste and agreed with Paschalis.
Upon entering the courtyard of the church, he became aware of the committed crime, and he burst into tears blaming Paschalis.
- It’s your fault that I can’t have the Communion.
- I am going to have Communion anyways. It’s not too bad. Peas don’t hold any oil.
- You are not allowed to eat anything. Not even water, grandma says.
- And how does she know? Read it somewhere? She can’t even read dad’s letters.
- She does indeed; Father Lambros, the priest, told her.
- Well, then tell him like the blameless child you are “Father Lambros, I have sinned and I can’t have the Communion."
The Liturgy was an ordeal.
A silent weep.
Everyone thought,
- What a sensitive child.
- My God, he is devastated.
- It’s not quite suitable for a boy to cry. Nowadays you got to be tough. Which days did you mean, shouldn’t there be a clear demarcation? Just like there are no foreigners in a small congregation. It used to be one family, and still is.
Father Lambros spotted Ghikas quickly, with tears and hesitation about approaching the Holy Grail.
- Ghika, he ordered him, do come close.
Ghikas approached with downcast eyes. Childless Father Lampros had great sympathy for young children, boys, especially those quiet and dreamy like Ghikas.
- Won’t you receive the Communion?
- No, I can’t right now, and bowed his head even further; I’ll do it at the Resurrection.
- Why, he asked, let me see, and he pulled his face holding his chin.
- I ate half a chickpea. I didn’t mean to. Paschalis made me do it.
- And you’re like this for half a chickpea? You’re just a kid, it’s fine. Jesus forgives all and especially those who did a misstep on a chickpea.He opened his mouth and let the Sanctification roll inside him, sweeping away the tears and guilt of half a chickpea.